Sea Green
by Wyvryn
Summary: Matthew is knocked out during battle, and taken in by a strange set of siblings. Until he can get back to Canada, he must stay with Abel, Emma and Louis, and learn the ways to get by.
1. the bunker

If the ear-splitting artillery fire wasn't enough to petrify Matthew Williams where he stood, the fact that innocent civilians were starving and dying around him did.

The lives being taken, he couldn't stand it. And he couldn't stop it, either. Not in the state he was in.

He walked with a nasty limp, a product of being shot in the ankle.

As he slumped against the side of a house, he detected a broken rib, most likely from tripping over a tree root, a sprained wrist, thankfully not his dominant hand, and a scraped, bloody arm.

He started to cry.

His father wanted this. He needed to please his father. He had to.

He tried to scream, but his vocal chords were so mutilated from the previous fighting.

He didn't want to think about it.

The lifeless bodies of soldiers. Their glassy eyes, their last look of terror.

Matthew violently shook his head, in an attempt to make the images stop. They weren't stopping. They had to stop.

He choked out a voiceless sob, calling for his little brother.

But Alfred wouldn't respond.

He wouldn't ever respond again.

As an old memory of him and Alfred playing together played out in Matthew's mind, he started to black out.

It was pitiful to look at, really.

Matthew, huddled up on the ground, sobbing for his brother.

And as Matthew faded, a last memory came to mind.

His real papa.

Francis Bonnefoy.

And Matthew blacked out.

Matthew opened his eyes.

Registering everything around him was hard. He had bandages covering his wounds.

And then someone leaned over him.

"Ben je dood?"

"Stil, hij kent waarschijnlijk geen Nederlands. Hij is Canadees."

"Fijn. ARE YOU DEAD?!"

The first voice sounded feminine.

The girl annunciated every word when she spoke in English, and she sounded like she had a French-related accent.

The second voice was high pitched, but Matthew could still tell it belonged to a male.

He could tell they were speaking Dutch, although the two had accents from other countries.

Then a third voice came in.

"Bon, vous êtes réveillé. Pouvez-vous parler français?"

Matthew closed his eyes and answered.

"Oui."

The voice softened.

"What about English?"

"Yes."

The female chimed in again.

"Stom, natuurlijk spreekt hij Engels, hij is Canadees!"

The third voice grumbled and scathingly replied with "Hij zou uit Quebec kunnen komen!"

Matthew couldn't understand anything. He sat up to get a closer look at the bodies the voices belong to.

The higher pitched masculine voice belonged to a short blonde boy. He had green-blue eyes. Or more so eye, as hair was covering the left portion of his face

He wore a tattered, ripped striped dress shirt and dirty navy blue pants.

The girl donned a beaten dress and a green headband that made her dirty blonde hair frizz up on either side of it. Her eyes were like emeralds, shimmering in the faint light from outside.

The last man had scary eyes. A fresh scar slashed across his eyebrow, and he wore a camo army jacket. He had drawstring pants and bandaged feet, wrapping up to his ankles. His face was rather scary. Matthew didn't know if it was the deep-sea green coloured eyes or the stubble that was growing across his face or the fresh scar that still trickled a tiny bit of blood, but for some odd reason, his face was… reassuring. A kindness lingered there, even if his emotionless face didn't show it. And Matthew knew he cared for these other people, whoever they were.

Matt tried to sit up a bit more, but a sharp wave of dizziness struck him, and next thing he knew, he was out cold.

Matthew rarely woke in the next weeks.

When he did, the girl, who he'd started to call 'Dusty' in his head, due to her hair, would feed him. It tasted like dry bread and meat, although he couldn't tell. She'd usually wash it down with water, occasionally milk.

Sometimes, the young boy, or 'Blondie' to him, would come and change his bandages.

And 'Scar'. He would always be beside Matthew. Just... watching him.

He was even there the day Matthew woke for good, sitting beside him, smoking a pipe.

"Hm, you're awake."

Unlike his 'siblings' (Matthew didn't exactly know), he spoke with a Dutch accent. Matt never really noticed how deep his voice was, probably due to the fact that he'd been half asleep the first time he heard it.

In a daze, Matt sat up. He felt an aching in his rib, but for the most part, it felt healed.

He went to test out his ankle, but the tall man stopped him.

"I don't think you should do that quite yet. It's not completely healed. There was a small infection about a week ag-"

Matthew's head snapped towards the man as he cut him off.

"A WEEK?! How long have I been out?!"

The man blew out a ring of smoke, catching Matt in the face.

"Cool it, kid. You've been out for about four weeks. Bad head injury. The others found you outside the storm shelter. You were slumped against our neighbor's wall. So naturally, they took you back inside, and we've been nursing you for the past month."

Matt heard a creak of metal doors, a slam, and that girl's voice.

"Excuse me, Louis and I have been nursing him for the past month. You did squat."

The trio was complete as Dusty and Blondie, or who he assumed was 'Louis', waltzed into the room.

"His eyes are cute when they open all the way."

Louis, the young boy, was holding the hand of the girl. In comparison, Louis looked to be around ten years old. Dusty seemed to be… maybe sixteen? And Scar looked to be in the 18-20 range.

The girl approached him, smiling. She stuck out her hand for Matt to shake.

"Hi! I'm Emma! This is my little brother, Louis."

She gestured at the small blonde attached to her hand.

"The scary guy over there is Abel."

Abel gave a slight nod.

Louis detached himself from his older sister's hand and crouched beside Matthew.

"Hello, Mister. I want to ask your name."

Matt could tell he didn't fluently speak English. His accent was much thicker than his siblings, who he guessed grew up speaking it as a second language. Matthew leaned down, took Louis' hand and gave it a slight shake.

"My name is Matthew. Thank you for changing my bandages, petit."

Louis blushed and clutched his pants. "Not problem, Mister Matthieu."

Emma came over and ruffled his hair.

"NO problem, not NOT problem."

Lou nodded. "Droit, merci."

Emma suddenly perked up.

"Oh! Right! Abel, I managed to steal some fresh meat!"

Matthew snapped his head to look at her. "Stole?!"

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes STOLE. It's a war, soldier boy. A war as well as a famine."

As Matthew tried to protest, she stuck a finger in front of his mouth, gesturing for him to shut up.

"Ah ah ah. You stay with us; you abide our rules. Now I'm gonna go cook this up. Soldier boy-"

"It's Matthew."

"- Yeah yeah whatever. MATTHEW, you stay in here with Louis. Abel, you go out and look for extra blankets. Louis, make sure Matt doesn't do anything stupid. Oh yeah, can I call you Matt? I'm gonna call you Matt."

Before Matthew could reply, Emma ran into the kitchen.

"So... when do you think I can go home?"

Matthew had his arm out, with Louis wrapping fresh bandages around it.

"Once you are heal. Before, no."

Louis finished re-bandaging Matt's arm, and said: "I now go check on others."

Matt's brow furrowed in confusion.

"... Others?"

Louis nodded.

"We take ones that fell asleep. They can not fight on own."

Matthew tilted his head a bit.

"So… ones like me that can't fight on their own? Or that passed out?"

Louis nodded again. "Oui- I mean yes-"

Matthew chuckled.

"Non, c'est bon. Tu peux me parler français. Je peux aussi vous aider avec votre anglais si vous le souhaitez."

Louis brightened up a bit.

"Oui! Merci, Monsieur Matthieu!"

He suddenly grabbed Matthew's hand. "Allons! Allons rencontrer les autres!"

"Mais Abel et Emma ont dit de ne pas-"

"Ils sont juste paranoïaques! Votre cheville va bien tant que vous le prenez lentement."

"Si vous insistez…"

Matthew slowly pushed himself to his feet. Louis took his arm and guided to another part of the storm shelter, or more dungeon. This place was HUGE. Winding halls, rooms full of boxes, secret rooms. There was even a decently sized bathroom.

Louis called down one of the halls. "Elise! Michelle! Come meet new one!"

Doors opened from either side of the hall. From one emerged a little blonde girl.

She wore a pretty pink dress, although it was quite tattered.

She had bright green eyes and a purple ribbon in her hair, and she seemed about 11 years old.

The other girl had very dark skin, and a childish smile, although Matt could tell she was in her teens.

She wore two ponytails, tied by two red ribbons. She had a faded blue dress, and her eyes were hazel with little bits of amber. They reminded Matt of someone; he just didn't know who.

The dark-skinned girl ran up to him and shook his hand.

"HI! I'm Michelle! You must be the new guy!"

She shook his hand vigorously as she explained how they cared for him in the past weeks. Matthew picked up about 5% of her speech, partially because of her French accent, partly because of her rapid-fire remarks, and she only stopped when she saw the pain in Matthew's eyes from practically having his wrist broken.

As Michelle apologized repeatedly, the little blonde girl came up and softly pushed her to the side.

"Michelle, you're scaring him."

Unlike the other girl, this child who he assumed was Elise, spoke very softly, as well as with a German accent.

"My name is Elise. I come from Switzerland. I was on a train back from Portugal to my hometown in Switzerland to see my big brother, but the train shut down. I heard gunfire in the distance, so I ran, and Michelle caught up with me. She said she was on the same train, and as we were heading into town, we found Emma. She took me back to this bunker, and we've been staying here for the past year with her."

Matthew nodded kindly and took her soft hands in his. "

"It's very nice to meet you, Elise. My name is Matthew Williams. I was in the Canadian army when I passed out from blood loss one day. I don't exactly know why I went into that coma b-"

Louis stretched up and whispered something in his ear.

Matthew whispered thanks and turned his attention back to Elise.

"Louis tells me they found me on my side bleeding from my head, so I must have fallen over in my sleep and damaged my head. Anyway, you know the rest of the story."

Elise nodded. "Mmhm. I sometimes helped Louis bandage you up."

Matthew laughed. "Thank you very much, Elise."

"Not a problem."

Dinner that night was interesting, to say the least.

There were five people all screaming in different languages, Michelle running around on a sugar high, Louis and Emma bombarding Abel with stale bread, Abel shouting at his siblings in a mixture of angry Dutch French and English, probably for wasting food, and poor little Elise caught in the middle of it all.

Despite the chaos, Emma was an excellent cook. They each only got a medium-sized ration of food, but it was filling.

The meat tasted like pork, and there were stale bread and raw peas to go along with it.

For most of the meal, Matthew talked with Elise. She was a sweet little girl with a very kind heart, and she cared for her big brother, Vash.

Matthew's gaze was averted from the little blonde when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emma taking another plate of food.

"Emma, I thought we were only allowed one plate of food…"

She picked up the plate.

"Yeah, this is for the grumpy Italian. Oh yeah, probably should explain. We found this guy being chased by some angry Germans. He won't tell us anything, and we just found out his last name is "Vargas". I don't think you should see him yet, just in case he lashes out or something."

Matthew tilted his head.

"... Lashes out?"

Emma sighed. "Yeah, first day we got him in, he socked Abel. Wasn't pretty."

Matthew shivered.

"Yeah, I'm not ready to meet him quite yet."

After dinner, Matthew went to clean up in the bath. He inspected the bandaging work Louis and Elise had done.

"Not bad." he muttered to himself. He carefully unwrapped them. As they revealed more and more skin, he gasped.

Winding up his spine were whip marks and bruises. Matthew stumbled a bit and knocked over a soap bar. As it clunked to the floor, Abel called from the next room. "You okay in there?"

Matthew didn't respond.

"Soldier boy, you good?"

No response. Abel slowly creaked open the door.

"Matthew, are you okay? I heard a b- oh."

Abel's brows furrowed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude…"

Matthew gulped.

"I don't remember."

Abel's brows knit even further together.

"What?"

Matthew started to cry.

"Abel, my memory is completely blank. I don't remember where I got these I-"

He choked on his words.

"I can't remember anything."


	2. lovino

Emma

"So, lemme get this straight. You can't remember anything from before you passed out?"

I paced back and forth in front of the young soldier we had taken in.

Matthew shook his head.

"Do you remember any of your schoolings?" I prompted.

Matthew's eyes fleeted.

"It's fuzzy. I can do basic math and such, but looking at certain things intrigues memories."

I crossed my arms and thought for a moment. An off topic, yet crucial little detail struck me.

"Louis!" I called.

The young boy scuttled into the dining room where we sat.

"Louis, you changed Matt's chest bandages every day…"

Louis started to sweat. "Oui…"

"Did you know about his scars?"

Louis didn't reply. He kept eye contact with me but swiftly broke away.

He sniffled and choked out a squeaky little "Oui…".

My voice mellowed to what Abel nicknamed my "Mother voice".

"Louis, I'm not mad. I just wanted to know why you didn't tell us."

Louis stumbled towards me, and I caught him in my arms. I hoisted him onto my lap, and he curled into a little ball, sobbing into my shoulder.

He was mumbling something in French I couldn't quite make out.

"Sweetie, could you say that in English? You know I'm a bit rusty on my French."

His voice was muffled, but I could make out what he was stammering about.

"Did not… tell… because did not want to disrespect Mattheiu…"

I smiled.

"Louis, I understand. That was very respectful of you. I'm proud of you."

He hiccuped and stammered "Merci, Emi…"

"Don't cry, baby. You were brave. Now let's get you to bed."

He looked up at me with teary, wide eyes.

"Okay, Emi."

I turned to look at Matt, but I had forgotten how stressful today would've been for him, and was probably beat.

My suspicions were correct.

Matt had curled in on himself in fetal position and was snoring away.

I called for Abel to carry him away as I tucked Louis into bed to read him a story.

Abel strode into the room to grab Matt.

He gently put one arm under his shoulders and one under his knees.

The fondness on his face was uncanny; he never looked at anyone like that.

Well, it was hard to tell. Abel had always found it hard to convey emotion, but I've learned to read him over the years. And I've never seen him look like that.

Abel

I hooked one arm under his knees and one under his shoulders.

The boy was a featherweight, weighing maybe 90 pounds, and his limbs felt skinny. Faint freckles scattered across his body in various places, and we managed to find a cracked pair of glasses that almost fit his prescription.

Dusty blonde hair fell in straggles across his tanned skin, which reminded me that he never got around to a bath.

I made a mental note to remind him tomorrow as I hauled him through the winding halls.

These halls had been built by my great-grandfather, years upon years ago. Maman told me he was paranoid about a war. He only ever told Maman about them, who went on to tell me. They really did come in handy after all.

I turned a corner into a guest room and gently laid Matthew on the bed. I propped his head up on a pillow and tucked him into the blanket. I whispered "bonne nuit", and flicked the bedside light off.

Within the next week, Matthew healed spectacularly. His bond with the others grew as well, and he started doing housework as well. Every day, he cleared everyone's plates and washed the tables, and occasionally cooked with Emma. He usually burned the food.

This was all routine, until the day the strange Italian burst into his room.

"UNA SCHIFEZZA UNA SCHIFEZZA! NO NO NO NO NO-"

The door slammed behind him, and Matt heard a click of the lock.

"HA! TAKE THAT, SUCKERS! LETS SEE HOW Y- oh."

He turned around to face Matthew.

"Um… well…"

They both stood looking at each other in awkward silence until they heard Abel's voice.

"Matt? Is Vargas in there with you?"

The Italian made a motion across his neck, to signify to shut up.

"Uh… no?"

"Can I come in?"

Matthew's voice cracked as he half shouted; "NO IM GETTING DRESSED."

Even if they couldn't see his face, Matthew could tell Abel had an "I don't 100% believe you but ok" look on his face.

"Okay… lunch is in about an hour. I found some cheese that's only about two days past the expiry date, and there was also some stale bread, so Emma's making grilled cheese."

Matthew nodded vigorously, then remembered Abel wasn't in the room.

"YEAH OK THANKS ABEL."

Abel made a "Mmhm" sound and walked off down the hall.

Matt sighed and slumped against his bed.

"I just saved your hide back there, now explain 'Vargas'."

He grumbled and looked at me.

"Long or short version."

"Long"

Lovino

If he wanted long, he got long. We sat there for about half an hour talking about how badly I screwed up.

The short version, for those with short attention spans, is that I was in the military, and I woke up on a battlefield after being knocked out. I heard German troops were coming my way, so I got into a North Italian's uniform, and pretended to be one of them.

The German military was brutal, so when I was posted here, I ran, hid in the bushes, bled out from a gun wound, passed out, and these jerks found me.

Day in day out, they'd try to get information out of me, like my full name, but I didn't trust them quite yet, so I gave them the silent treatment. Just now, I attempted to escape, but that did not go as planned.

Matthew gawked as I told him the long, detailed version.

When I finished, he took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and stared some more.

"How did you do all that?! That takes some real bravery-... what is your name?"

I grumbled, like I always do (my brother says I need to work on my people skills), and muttered "Lovino. Lovino Vargas."

I rolled my eyes jokingly at his lousy attitude and stuck my hand out for him to shake.

"I'm Matthew Williams, Canadian Soldier, grew up in Quebec. Pleased to meet you."

I reluctantly took his hand, gave it a quick shake, jolted my hand away dramatically, and rubbed it on my shirt.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Could you help me get outta here?"

Matthew thought for a moment and then shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can trust you yet. Bu-"

Lovino cut him off with a string of Italian profanity.

"MATTHEW PLEASE, I CAN'T STAND IT HERE, I NEED TO GET OUT!.

Matthew thought for a moment, then looked at Lovi.

"If you show yourself to the others and help me with my chores, maybe we can work something out?"

Lovi grunted and nodded.

"FINE. Only because this is the only chance I'll have…"

The re-introduction didn't go as smooth as Matthew would've hoped.

Abel and Emma were both fuming messes, which caused Louis to burst out into tears.

All of the siblings started arguing, so Michelle and Elise eventually just went into the next room.

Abel and Emma were going in between French and Dutch, but Matthew could make out they were deciding what to do about Lovino.

Matthew gulped and stammered; "How about Lovino h-"

Emma turned around from screaming at her brother.

"Lovino? You got his name?"

Matthew nodded nervously. "Uhhh… yeah. And how he got here."

The fuming girl gaped at Matthew, eyes fleeting between him and his grumpy companion.

"... how."

"I asked…"

Emma stumbled over to Lovino.

"Why'd you tell him and not us, your saviours?!"

Lovino shrugged uncomfortably.

"I don't know, Matthew just seems more trustworthy by default. You guys, on the other hand, interrogated me. I didn't appreciate that all too much."

Emma's jaw clenched, and she grabbed the collar of Lovino's shirt.

"But we saved you! Why aren't you grateful?! We-"

Louis started to cry even more.

Abel put a hand on Emma's shoulder, somehow still staying calm.

"Emma lay off him. He just didn't trust u-"

Emma slapped his hand away. "But-"

She stopped as she saw Louis crying.

"Oh no- baby I didn't mean to- oh no no no, shhh…"

She scooped up the crying boy in her arms and nuzzled his head.

"Shhh, I'm sorry Louis. Do you want to lay down? Cmon…"

As they walked out of the room, Matthew tugged at Lovino's shirt sleeve, careful not to touch his skin, in case he got sensitive.

"You alright?"

Lovino scowled and nodded.

"See why I don't trust these psychos? I mean; she's crazy!"

Abel slightly bowed in apology.

"I'm very sorry for my sister's outburst; she's always had… issues with her anger management. Little things make her very angry, and she has sudden… anger snaps, as we call them."

"Well if it happens again, I'll be out of here before you know it." Lovino scoffed.

Abel grimaced.

"Lovino, there's no way in and no way out. It's all occupied by German soldiers; it would be a suicide mission."

Lovi's eyes fleeted from Abel to the door to the hall, as if he was contemplating whether to make a run for it or not. He opened his mouth like he was going to counter Abel, but closed it as he realized Abel was right.

"... Fine."

Abel bit his lip and looked at the door.

"... I should check on Emma."

Lovino scowled and spat "Yeah, I'm staying far away from that psycho."


End file.
